The Space Between
by alherrin
Summary: Life and circumstance had hardened them to their own emotions, but sometimes all it takes to break down barriers is for someone to bridge the space between...


_Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or storyline from Resident Evil. Just the thoughts swirling around my head that Alice and Claire are perfect for each other..._

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For the third time that week, Alice jerked awake with a soft cry. She shook the last image of her nightmare away. Rain's bloodshot, watery eyes opening, filled with hunger, just before she lunged at Alice's throat, and just before Alice put a bullet into the woman's brain. She shivered against the cold desert air.

A warm hand touched her shoulder and Alice spun around gun drawn, before lowering it immediately.

The redhead didn't even wince. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Alice shook her head. "There's nothing to talk about Claire. They're just dreams."

Claire narrowed her eyes at the woman. "You keep talking about rain Alice. You know this is the desert right?"

Alice laughed bitterly. "I'm aware. Thanks."

Claire winced at the coldness of the woman's voice. "You sounded terrified. What has you so scared of the weather?"

Alice looked away. "Rain was a person," she snarled. Then her voice softened. It wasn't Claire's fault. "A woman."

Realization dawned on the redhead's face. "You loved her?"

Alice met Claire's eyes, her gaze hard and cold. "I killed her."

The redhead looked away, regretting the fact that she had brought up the painful topic. "She was infected?"

Alice nodded. "One of the first."

Claire squeezed Alice's shoulder. She wanted to tell the woman it wasn't her fault, that there was nothing she could have done, but she didn't actually know that to be true. She didn't know Alice at all. She just knew she wasn't – human.

"You miss her." It wasn't a question.

Alice was silent.

"What do you miss most about her?"

Alice narrowed her eyes at the redhead. "The feeling of her skin under my hands," she growled.

Claire winced again at Alice's harsh tone and words.

"Let's not pretend that I have emotions Claire. We both know that it's not true." She shook her head bitterly. "I can't feel – anything. One of the many perks that came with the Umbrella package deal."

Claire shook her head at the woman. She could see right through Alice. "Just because you don't _want_ to feel, doesn't mean that you don't…" She trailed off. "I'm not blind, Alice."

Alice sneered at the woman. "What do you want to do Claire? Take the pain away?" She laughed tersely. "I'm not a wounded fucking animal. I'm a weapon."

"Yeah that's what you want everyone to believe huh? Heart like cold steel? Tongue like a razorblade? You're not a machine Alice. You have blood. You have a heart. And you have feelings, regardless of whether or not you want them."

Alice glared at the redhead. She was starting to get annoyed with the woman. Claire's eyes were drilling into hers, searching for something, the slightest indication that she may be right. "You think I have emotions?" she questioned. "Then make me _feel_ something Claire."

She expected Claire's rough thumb to caress her arm. Her weather-beaten hand to gently cup her face. Maybe a quick press of her lips. She definitely _wasn't_ expecting the hard right hook that landed on her jaw. She blinked at the woman. Everything in her body told her to fight back, but instead, she laughed.

Loud and unbridled against the quiet night, she tossed her head back and laughed. Claire just stared at her as if she'd gone mad, but after a few moments, she softly chuckled along with Alice.

When the older woman calmed down she rubbed her throbbing jaw. "Hell of a right hook you got there."

Claire smiled sadly, before reaching up to cup Alice's face gently. "I don't know why I just did that." She didn't apologize, but the soft stroke of her thumb against Alice's jaw held a touch of regret.

After a few seconds, she dropped her hand from Alice's face. "You felt that didn't you?"

Alice exhaled sharply, the corners of her lips turning up just slightly. "Yeah, I definitely felt that. I'm sure I'll feel it tomorrow too."

Claire smiled. "Well, it's a start I guess." She settled back against the ground and gazed up at the stars. The two were silent for a long while and Claire assumed that Alice had fallen back asleep.

She closed her eyes and settled in for the night. After a few moments, Alice spoke again.

"I did love her." It was a whisper, barely audible against the noises of the desert, but Claire had heard it. She smiled to herself.

She reached across the space between them and placed her hand on top of Alice's, squeezing slightly. "Holding onto the past only keeps us from moving forward."

Alice sighed. She didn't need cliché lines. She didn't need anything. "And what should I do then? Forget about her? Pretend she never existed? Move on to the next person who's willing to wrap their arms around me and tell me that everything's going to be okay?" she asked resentfully. "Because everything's _not_ okay Claire. It's not even close."

"You don't think I know that? You don't think there have been people that I've loved – and lost? People that are no longer in this world because of _my_ finger on the trigger? Because you're wrong." She pulled her hand away from Alice and crossed her arms over her chest. "We've all lost people Alice."

Alice turned to look at the redhead's profile. Her eyes were closed, but her jaw was tense with frustration. "I didn't mean it that way," she said softly. "I know that you've lost people Claire. You just – deal with it better than I do."

"Because I have to. People look to me every day for answers. For guidance. For leadership. Where would we all be if I just sank into myself dwelling on everything that I've lost?"

"Dead," Alice stated bluntly. "You'd all be dead."

"Exactly. And we'd all be dead if it weren't for you." Claire opened her eyes and looked at the woman. "You saved us Alice, and regardless of how scared of you these people are, they're not going to forget that." She paused. "As long as you stay here they're going to expect that from you. They're going to expect you to keep saving them."

Alice huffed. "I'll only let them down. People have a habit of dying around me." She felt Claire's hand on hers again.

"Not just you," the redhead whispered. "Look Alice, I know it's hard. I may not know exactly what you've been through, or what you're going through now, but – I just – I want you to know that – if you need…" she trailed off. It seemed compassion wasn't something that either of them was good at.

Still, the words – or more, the meaning in the negative space between Claire's words – touched the older woman deeply. "I'll – keep that in consideration."

In spite of her best efforts to keep herself from feeling it, the warmth of Claire's implication spread throughout her chest, settling deep within her. It had been a long time since anyone had even attempted to bring her some sort of comfort. She sighed softly and let her eyes slip closed. "Claire." She paused, collecting her thoughts. She didn't want to overstep, or open up a line of unrestrained communication, but she wanted the redhead to know that she didn't have to be the strong, stoic convoy leader in her presence. "The same goes for you." She peeked up just in time to see Claire smile slightly, closing her eyes.

The woman reminded her of Rain in so many ways. Hot-headed, quick to anger, but also fiercely loyal and devoted to keeping those around her safe. She imagined the redhead was a wildcat in the sack as well. Maybe one day they'd both let their walls down long enough for her to find out, but until then, she'd take what the woman had offered. A listening ear. A guiding hand. A crutch to lean on when this world knocked her legs out from under her, as it so often did.

Their cautious relationship was bordered with thin red lines and chalk outlines of people they'd failed to save. Communication between them was like trying to navigate a minefield, and Alice was positive that it would take them a while to actually find each other, if they didn't trigger an explosion first. But something told her that it would be worth the risk.

She turned her hand over and threaded her fingers through Claire's. She felt the woman's hand twitch, as if she were going to pull away, but then the redhead tightened her fingers around Alice's.

Neither of them spoke. They didn't need words to muddle up what was passing between them. An offer of contact. An acceptance of the other's need. A fragile grasp at hope for something more. A silent promise of things to come.


End file.
